Jumping to Conclusions: Why Shouldn't We?
A weapons instruction by Torn leads to some very naughty...thoughts from the rest of the Underground.
Jak picked up the knife from the ground and hurled it at the wall, only to have it bounce off by the tip and land at his feet...again. Torn sighed in frustration. Why had he agreed to this again?
The young Samos walked by the door to the training room, pausing when he heard grunting sounds coming from the other side. Perplexed, he put his large ear to the wooden door.
"C'mon Jak, you can do it harder than that, can't you? It's not even hitting the right spot." He heard Torn sneer. Jak followed with:
Nng. Whump. Thwack. Groan.
"I would if you would shut-up! You breaking my concentration!"
Samos gasped and ran down the hall, hoping to find someone who could explain what he had just heard.
Jak picked up the knife again.
"How much concentration does it take to throw a knife into a wooden wall? You're just not trying hard enough!" Resisting the urge to hurl the blade into Torn's chest, he hurled it harder at the wall, groaning again when it bounced off, this time by the hilt.
"Harder!" Torn roared in exasperation.
Tess gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. Were Jak and Torn...? Daxter peered out from around her legs.
"Whoa there. Are Jak and Torn in there gettin' it on? Mister I -Got-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass now has Jak's stick up his ass? I think I'm gonna faint..." he collapsed to the floor.
"Jak! You're not doing it right. I'll show you one last time, then it's your turn."
They heard some shuffling, and then a loud thump, followed by another groan.
Torn's knife quivered in the wall. He had made it with his eyes shut. Jak groaned.
"Show off," he muttered, pulling the blade out. He stood back in his spot and pulled his arm back, ready to loose the knife.
"Don't forget to aim, pretty boy."
"Yeah, yeah. I know what to do."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Hnnnah!" there was a considerably loud thwack as the knife stuck itself in the wall. Jak cheered in triumph.
"Did I do it right?"
Torn sighed heavily. This boy was too simple-minded.
"Good enough for now. You did get it in; I'll give you that. But your form needs work. Hardly enough force behind it."
Jak narrowed his eyes, but let the insult go. The revenge could come later.
Outside, Tess was picking up an unconscious Ottsel when the doorknob turned slowly. They were coming! Quickly, she and Samos darted around the corner. Just in time too. Jak and Torn walked out, Jak tossing the chipped knife in the air and catching it again.
"Well, that was fun," Jak said sarcastically, sheathing his knife. He looked up and down the corridor before grinning at Torn. He pushed the Krimzon Guard up against the wall, lips attached to his neck. Torn sighed in content before pushing Jak away gently.
"We have company. We'll finish this later." He promised, kissing Jak lightly on the forehead. The schizoid warrior pouted a bit before nodding and walking down the hall.
"Same time tomorrow, Jak. We'll make you an expert at knife-throwing if it kills me." Torn ordered after Jak in a gruff growl. He turned and rounded the corner where Tess, Daxter and Samos were slumped against the wall in a dead faint. He chuckled a bit and walked off.
People jump to conclusions waaaay too easily for his liking. Though, in this case, they were right.
End part one. The first installment in the 'Why Shouldn't We?' series.
